


Here I Go Again (On My Own)

by MercyBuckets



Category: Killjoys (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Daddy Issues, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hallucinations, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Not A Fix-It, Not as Depressing as the Tags Make It Sound, Poisoning, Post-Season/Series 02 AU, Rescue Missions, Self-Destructive Behavior, Sort Of, Suicidal Thoughts, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-24 16:00:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13217175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercyBuckets/pseuds/MercyBuckets
Summary: If you’ve seen one illegal basement prison, you’ve pretty much seen ‘em all.





	Here I Go Again (On My Own)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [luckydip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckydip/gifts).



> Hey friends! I was a Yuletide pinch hitter two years ago so I always try to write a treat or two. This one is a little late because it took on a life of its own but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! This is essentially a Canon AU in which Johnny doesn't leave with Clara at the end of season 2. 
> 
> Featuring: Johnny rescuing himself (and then rescuing his team), hurt/comfort, closure, and badassery (is that a word?) all around! 
> 
> Warnings: Take heed of the tags. There's frank discussion of suicidal thoughts, past child abuse, and Johnny is very much grieving and not thinking straight. Message me if you want specifics before you read

Johnny wakes up and everything hurts. He’s so cold that for a second he’s worried that they— whoever  _ they _ are— took his clothes ... again, but a cursory once over reveals that his pants at least, are still on. He’s soaking wet and he has a few more bruises than he started with but those idiots must not know who they’re dealing with because they didn’t even bother tying his hands. He’s a little offended. There are some serious gaps in his memory and the pounding headache really isn’t helping but he’s pretty sure it was some rich asshole or another who landed him here. Plus if it isn’t, the rich assholes probably deserve being blamed for something anyway. Pawter is— fuck, was— the only rich asshole worth his time and he needs to ... he needs to ...

‘Keep it together Jaqobis!’ 

He says it out loud because in his head it would sound like her and he needs to keep his head on straight. Dav and Dutch are probably already on their way, but he’s not waiting for them. They already think he’s ready to off himself at the slightest provocation; he’s not about to lay here, dripping wet, waiting for Dutch and his brother to judge his life choices— like they have any room to talk. 

‘Step one, unlock the lock,’ says Pawter appearing out of the corner of his eye. He shuts his eyes and swears. They must have drugged him.

‘Do not talk to the hallucinations,’ he orders to the room at large, which is just himself. When she doesn’t answer he turns his focus to the door. 

‘Right, unlock the door,’ he says mostly to see if any guards are going to jump out of the shadows and deliver a one-sided ass kicking or Pawter will return to haunt him. When nothing happens, he pulls his lockpicks out of the hidden pocket in the band of his underwear, and gets to work.

* * *

‘I don’t like it,’ says D’avin for the hundredth time. A particularly persistent raindrop sneaks past his gear and crawls down the back of his neck. He forces himself to ignore it. 

‘I’m open to revisions,’ says Dutch testily. 

D’avin makes a face at her back but resists the semi-suicidal urge to mimic her whiny tone. He’s not the brightest bulb sure, but dad didn’t knock all of his survival instincts out of him, only most of them. 

‘That’s what I thought,’ says Dutch taking his silence as acquiescence. 

D’avin has to hold on to his witty reply as an unwanted gust of of wind nearly sends him tumbling thirty feet down to the ground. 

‘This is some old world fairytale shit,’ he says when he’s certain he’s not about to plunge to an icy death. ‘Who puts a prison in a tower? Doesn’t seem very cost effective to me.’

Dutch throws a glare as cold as the weather over her shoulder at him. ‘Trees I hate rain! Just shut up and climb.’

D’avin can’t feel anything past his elbows but his brother is up there somewhere and he’s probably trying to get himself killed because he misses his dead girlfriend. D’avin keeps going.

* * *

No guards appear as Johnny makes his way down the twisting hallway. In fact, the only sign of life he sees, is a flashing red light. 

‘Hope that wasn’t you!’ says Pawter from behind him. 

Johnny keeps his eyes forward and resists the urge to tell her that if it was, they— he’d be overrun with guards right now. She isn’t real. She’s dead. He can’t talk to her, because that would be lying to himself and if he starts now, he’s never gonna stop. He needs to stay focused on the plan. Kick ass, get out, fly away, no hallucinations, and no pity-filled looks from his rescuers. There’s an upward slope to the hall, and as he makes his way up, the air clears. After what feels like about a million steps, he feels dizzy but confident that he’s made it up above ground. 

‘Okay, Jaqobis,’ he says. Pawter mercifully doesn’t chime in to torment him. ‘Time for phase two.’

* * *

‘For fuck’s sake,’ snarls Dutch breaking another hired goon’s nose with her elbow. Her soaked clothes cling to her, making her look almost small. ‘Who the fuck sets an ambush at the top of a fucking tower with no doors?’

‘I’m not saying I told you so,’ says D’avin, breathless with exertion. ‘But—’

‘Shut your mouth and help me so we can find your brother and turn this place to rubble,’ says Dutch tightly.

He knows what she’s thinking. He’s thinking it too. If these idiots were this prepared for a rescue, they’re probably professional and the Trees only know what they’re doing to Johnny right now. The guy behind Dutch pulls out twin shock sticks. D’avin grits his teeth, pulls out his back-up gun, and jumps back into the fray.

* * *

Johnny smiles dangerously as he twists two more wires together. A few explosions will teach these dickheads not to mess with any more killjoys. 

‘And all improvised,’ he adds gleefully. ‘Suck it Fancy!’

But of course that just reminds him that Fancy hasn’t been the same after Khlyen fucked him over with the goo. The man may have helped them in the end but as far as John was concerned he remained a grade A asshole even after the heroic sacrifice routine. Fuck Khlyen! Fuck Delle Sayeh, may she rot in hell! And fuck whatever pompous assholes are behind his latest stint of imprisonment. He’s getting out of this prison, out of the whole damned game. He’ll blow up the tower, take Lucy, and retire on a nice backwater where he can fix tractors and no one will ever bother him ever again. Except Dutch and his brother will track him down and give him hell. Fuck. 

‘Focus on the plan Johnny,’ he tells himself. ‘One step at a time. Don’t get ahead of yourself.’

Except one step at a time is why he never married Pawter. He should have just done it, taken her to a dingy little room and had Alvis officiate. At least then he’d have something more than memories and ghosts. Fuck one step at a time! Wait— no, he needs to focus. Right, the plan.

‘Don’t be a dumbass Jaqobis,’ Pawter says sounding far too much like Dutch for comfort.

‘Now you decide to get along with her,’ he says ruefully before he can stop himself. Fuck. He’s not supposed to talk to the hallucinations. No pretending allowed. 

‘You’ve been dosed with something strong and you need to get back to Lucy,’ says Pawter, all business. ‘No time for fantasies or grandstanding.’

‘You’re dead,’ he says without looking at her. He can’t say it to her face. It hurts, like a knife in his chest. Fuck. 

‘You wanna join me?’ she asks, half curious, half sarcastic. 

He turns and the sight of her face hits him like a punch in the gut from a big bruiser wearing brass-knuckles. Her cheeks are flushed and her hair is doing its best to escape its braid. She looks like she just stepped out of the back room at the Royal, like she’s ready to take on death and win. 

‘Yes,’ he says blinking away unwelcome tears. 

‘Fuck that,’ she says. ‘You aren’t my Johnny if you’re giving up so easily. I’ve been dead for what, less than a month?’

‘I’m not your anything,’ he snarls suddenly furious. ‘You  _ died _ before we could—’ 

‘Bullshit,’ she shoots back. ‘I wasn’t aware that marriage was so important to you. I guess Dutch is just some stranger then?’

‘Fuck you,’ he says turning back to his work with the wires. ‘I promised you forever and you fucking left, just like everyone else.’ 

‘Umm, excuse me,’ says Pawter. ‘It wasn’t like I walked out on you to sleep with Sayon Trus’ idiot son. Stop the pity party and get back to the plan.’ 

‘I am  _ working _ on the plan,’ he snaps. ‘If you’ll just shut up for a second I’ll get us out of here.’

‘Oh Johnny,’ she says and he realises that for just a second, he forgot that she isn’t really here with him. He tries to swipe at his tears but there’s wires in his hands. 

‘Why couldn’t you be the kind of hallucination that kisses me and holds me close and tells me you miss me too?’ he chokes out. 

‘You know why,’ she says. ‘We all get as much time as we’re given. You don’t get a second chance to say goodbye, not really. It’s dangerous to pretend otherwise.’

‘Fine.’ He twists the last two wires together and steps back to examine his work. ‘It’s ready. I’ll bring it down on their heads just as soon as Lucy’s clear.’ 

‘Give ‘em hell Jaqobis,’ she says finally fading away. The knife in his chest twists and he feels like his heart might beat out of his chest, though that might just be a side effect of whatever he was dosed with. 

‘This is why you don’t talk the hallucinations,’ he says triggering the first small explosion. The wall directly in front of him explodes outward. The whole structure shudders but his math was good— of course his math was good— and nothing collapses. He taps his comm. ‘You there Luce?’ 

‘It is good to hear your voice John,’ says Lucy in his ear. ‘Though you do not sound well. I suggest you seek medical attention as soon as possible.’

‘Just rip off the bandaid Luce,’ he says. He pokes his head out the hole he’s made and whistles. The prison is some sort of tower that stretches up so high that he can’t see the top. Luckily, the hole he’s made is only a about six or seven feet off the ground. His cell must have been deep underground. ‘Seems a bit excessive to me,’ he mutters. ‘Where are D’av and Dutch?’

‘I’m afraid it’s bad news John,’ says Lucy. 

‘Of course it is.’

‘I have just lost the signal on their subcutaneous trackers,’ says Lucy. ‘But their last known location strongly suggests that they are inside the tower you have just escaped.’

* * *

D’avin wakes up slow but the first thing he’s aware of is the white hot pain emanating from his arm. The second is that he’s not wearing a shirt and he’s pressed close to Dutch, who is also not wearing a shirt.

‘This is kinky,’ he blurts out. ‘What happened?’

‘You got knocked out, I surrendered, and then they literally threw us into a hole,’ says Dutch. ‘You broke your arm and probably some ribs.’ 

‘And you?’ he asks.

‘I’ll make it,’ she says which means that she’s probably in a shit ton of pain. He grits his teeth and sits up. The movement jostles his arm which makes his vision fade in and out but he grits his teeth and toughs it out. 

‘So this rescue could have gone better,’ he says when he feels like he can open his mouth without screaming. 

‘You can say that again,’ says Dutch. ‘I don’t know what the story is with these people. They fight like professionals and this prison must cost enough to feed Old Town for a year but they didn’t even bother to tie us up.’ 

‘Maybe they figured we’d be too injured to go anywhere,’ says D’avin. 

‘Maybe they figure there’s nowhere to go,’ she says. ‘We’re underground. I can’t tell how far but as least as deep as Alvis’ tunnels.’

‘Clever,’ he says trying to think past the pain. ‘But then why bother with the tower?’

‘Because they’re ostentatious bastards?’ she suggests.

A laugh tears out of his chest. His broken arm shifts and he rides out the pain. ‘Fuck, I forgot how much that sucks.’ 

‘How did you do it before?’ she asks. 

‘Once in the army, I got hit with a falling rock of all things, then I had to carry my buddy out because he got hit in the head. I almost lost my arm that time. They had to reconstruct and I was on medical leave for three months.’ 

‘And before that? The first time?’

‘I was a kid. Got matching fractures on both arms after I fell off the loft in the barn,’ he says slowly. ‘My old man didn’t believe me when I told him I couldn’t work for a few weeks and when he took objection to it, the right arm ended up as a compound-break. We were dirt poor so it was never properly fixed. That’s why I’ve broken it so many times.’

‘How many?’ Her tone is light but he can tell she’s angry. 

He actually has to think about it. ‘This makes five. The army doc showed off my x-rays to her buddies because they were so fucked.’ 

‘I’ve only broken mine once,’ she says. ‘Khylen was pissed.’ 

‘Did he do it?’ asks D’avin bracing himself for the answer. 

Dutch shakes her head. ‘No, he prefered injuries that wouldn’t impare my field abilities, though he did break both tarsal bones as a lesson once.’

‘I know you have complicated feelings about him right now, but I hate that fucker,’ says D’avin. 

‘Noted,’ says Dutch but she looks somewhat gratified by the depth of his protective feelings for her past self. ‘I broke it saving a kid from being hit by a cruiser. It hit me instead and I broke my right arm in two places. Naturally, that was the beginning of my in depth training with my left hand.’

‘And you say you aren’t a hero.’ 

Her face darkens. ‘Khylen made me kill the boy’s parents after. He was shipped off to a group home in on Leith and eventually got into smuggling. He owns a shop on Westerly now. He was shot a few years back and I paid an associate to fix him up and help him go straight.’ 

‘You’re a good person Dutch,’ says D’avin.

* * *

‘They are gonna owe me big time for this,’ says Johnny. 

‘I suggest you work quickly John,’ says Lucy. ‘The broad-spectrum antidote you took is only a stop-gap measure. If you do not seek medical attention soon, the hallucinations will return and damage may become permanent.’

‘Promises, promises,’ he says. ‘The trick is getting D’av and Dutch out without triggering the explosion meant to collapse the whole thing.’

‘I suggest you do it carefully.’

‘I agree,’ he replies. ‘Where’d I put my plasma cutter?’

‘Next to your bolt gun,’ she says. ‘We are approaching the tower. Cloaking is engaged and so far, there is no indication that they have seen us.’ 

‘Keep an eye on that,’ he says. ‘It’ll take me a few minutes to hack it, even with the modifications I made before I left the building.’

‘Aye aye John.’

It takes him just under four minutes, faster than he estimated, but then again he’s feeling motivated. ‘Once I get in, monitor the feeds and wait for my signal Luce. We might be coming in hot and one way or another we’ll need a quick exit.’ 

‘I will be here John,’ she says.

* * *

Getting from the ship to the tower takes some fancy footwork but he had the sense to take a stim with the antidote, so he’s up for it. The hallway is still deserted, and according to the sensors he left, no one has tampered with his set up. 

He takes out the plasma cutter and heads for the inner wall. Sure enough, after several minutes of cutting the wall falls away revealing a shaft that disappears into darkness. 

‘Oh goody,’ he says to himself tucking away the plasma cutter and pulling out a grappling hook. ‘I can’t wait to jump down this big dark hole.’ 

‘Dutch and your brother are down there somewhere,’ says Pawter. ‘You’d do worse than that to get them back.’

‘Do not talk to the hallucinations,’ he orders. ‘Focus on the plan.’

‘Whatever,’ says Pawter. ‘You should hurry. Didn’t Lucy say something about brain damage?’

Johnny ignores her in favor of placing the grappling hook. ‘This is gonna suck.’

He jumps. His ribs scream in protest when he hits the opposite wall— another sign that the drugs are wearing off— but he shakes it off and begins to rappel down. To his surprise, hit hits a platform of some sort after only a few feet. It’s so unexpected that it takes him a few seconds to realize that the platform is rising and taking him with it. 

‘Oh shit!’ he bites out. He cuts the grappling hook cord and hastily attaches his back-up, affixing it to the edge of the platform. Then he yanks out the plasma torch and starts cutting. 

‘You’re cutting it a bit close Jaqobis,’ says Pawter.

The floor of the platform groans, then buckles and Johnny tumbles through the hole, barely managing to keep a hold on the plasma cutter. Mercifully the cord catches him— wrenching his arm so hard it near disclocates— before he hits the ground. He cuts it and manages a clumsy roll, landing in a crouch. It’s showtime. 

The first guard goes down easy, clearly not expecting a fight. The second gets in a few good hits before he takes a plasma cutter to the face but he goes down too. No more guards appear. Johnny staggers. The room smells like burning flesh. His head spins and he tries not to throw up. 

‘Get up Johnny,’ orders Pawter and he suddenly realizes that he’s slumped against the wall. 

‘I am,’ he says but he isn’t. ‘I just need a second to rest.’

‘No you don’t,’ snaps Pawter. 

‘Johnny is that you?’

That voice spurs him to his feet instantly. ‘Dutch!’

He finds her just down the hall, in a dirty cell not unlike the one he escaped from earlier but instead of bars, there’s an electro-shield. 

‘I guess they learned from their mistakes with me,’ he says. ‘Is D’av with you?’

‘Right here,’ croaks D’avin from somewhere behind Dutch. 

Johnny sighs in relief and even though his hands are shaking, he’s able to get the shield down in under a minute. Now that he can see them clearly, both Dutch and his brother look like shit. They’re soaking wet and shivering. D’avin’s arm is badly broken and Dutch’s face looks like someone took a hammer to it. Despite that they’re both smiling. 

‘Did someone order a rescue party?’ he asks. ‘Or are you just happy to see me.’

‘Both,’ says Dutch helping D’avin up. His face goes grey but he doesn’t pass out. ‘We were worried about you.’ 

‘I hope you’re up for a fight,’ says Johnny. ‘Because we have to make it to the exit point above ground before we can blow this place to kingdom come.’

‘You know I’m always up for a fight,’ says Dutch. ‘Especially against fuckers who hurt my boys.’

‘You’re so possessive,’ teases Johnny.

‘I’ll make it,’ says D’avin. He doesn’t look like he will but Johnny trusts his brother not to do anything to put them at risk. 

‘Of course you will,’ he says. ‘I brought toys.’

‘And we’re ready to play,’ says Dutch taking the gun Johnny hands her and passing one along to D’avin. 

Johnny had originally hoped to climb back up the way he came but D’av arm made that an impossibility and his own shaky vision wasn’t helping matters. Still, there were those moving platforms. ‘Dutch, how do you feel about taking the short way?’

‘Up the hole they threw us down?’ she asks. ‘If you have gear, I can make it.’

‘Here’s the plan,’ he tells her. ‘You climb up, there’s an exit where I came in. I’ll hotwire the platform system to get D’av up but you need to cover us because I’m not going to be able to shoot and keep us going up.’ 

‘I can shoot,’ says D’avin who’s leaning against a wall like he’s about to pass out. Johnny is pretty sure he can see bone through a tear in his brother’s shirt and he has to fight back nausea again. 

‘Easy,’ says Dutch. ‘I got this.’ She takes the grappling hook and starts down the hall, gun at the ready. 

Johnny pulls a roll of bandages from his pack and looks around for something to make a splint. Finding nothing, he orders D’avin to stay put and retrieves a deactivated shock stick from one of the incapacitated guards. When he returns, D’avin has slumped again, head lolling, eyes slits. 

‘This is gonna hurt like a bitch,’ Johnny tells him holding out the makeshift splint. 

‘Remember the first time you did this?’ D’avin asks. 

Johnny groans because he really rather wouldn’t. ‘Better medical care waiting for you this time around.’ 

‘Just do it,’ says D’avin and fuck him because now all Johnny can see is D’av, age fifteen, ashen with pain. 

‘On three,’ he says. ‘One—’ 

He pulls as hard as he can forcing his brother’s bones into place along the makeshift splint. D’avin whimpers, shaking with the effort of not screaming. 

‘That wasn’t three,’ he accuses weakly. 

From somewhere above them the sound of a gun firing echoes through the building. Dutch. 

‘We need to move,’ says Johnny. 

‘Wrap it so it stays,’ says D’avin. ‘I can finish when we get to the platform.’

Johnny is loath to let his brother administer his own first aid but this is an emergency. ‘Fine.’

Thankfully they make it back to the shaft without anymore trouble— D’avin is barely on his feet and Johnny’s vision is growing distractingly dark around the edges— but they get there. 

‘You okay up there Dutch,’ he yells.

‘Peachy,’ she shouts, half breathless. ‘Three down, more coming I’m sure.’ 

‘I got it, I got it, ’ says Johnny bending down to peel back the floor of platform, revealing a host of wires. 

‘What do you need from me?’ asks D’avin.

Johnny resists the urge to dismiss him. It would never work. ‘Watch my back.’

‘Always,’ says D’avin. Pain always did make him sentimental. 

Johnny can’t see worth a damn but he isn’t about to let that stop him. D’avin is counting on him to get them out. He needs to do this. He shocks himself twice before he gets it right but finally the platform starts to rise very slowly.                                

‘Speed it up down there boys,’ yells Dutch. ‘Things are getting exciting.’ 

‘Define exciting?’ asks Johnny. 

‘Move your asses,’ says Dutch. 

Johnny’s reply is cut off by a bullet impacting right next to him. 

‘Fuck where is that coming from?’ yells D’avin whipping the gun up with uninjured arm. 

‘Dutch!’ yells Johnny. 

‘Not on my floor,’ she shouts back. ‘I’m clear.’

Another bullet hits, this one closer. 

Johnny yells, ‘I can’t drop these wires.’

‘My three o’clock,’ D’avin shouts. ‘Dutch!’

‘I don’t have a shot,’ she yells back. ‘Give me a moment.’ 

‘We don’t have a moment,’ yells Johnny. 

Behind him, D’avin shuffles to better cover Johnny’s back. A bullet whips past him and he returns fire hitting the wall. 

‘Almost there boys,’ shouts Dutch. The firing stops. 

‘You good?’ yells Johnny after a long beat of silence. 

‘I’m fucking great,’ says Dutch from much closer than before. ‘I got him.’ 

‘Where are you?’ croaks D’avin keeping the gun up. 

‘Right here,’ says Dutch jumping lightly on to the platform. ‘You both look like shit.’

‘Likewise,’ says Johnny. ‘This might be a good time to mention I was poisoned.’

‘You were what?’ yell D’avin and Dutch at the same time. 

‘Were you planning on mentioning this?’ asks Dutch. 

‘Or waiting until you passed out on us,’ finishes D’avin. 

‘Like you have room to talk,’ says Johnny but he’s too tired to summon any real anger. 

‘This conversation isn’t over Johnny,’ says Dutch. 

‘Exactly,’ says Pawter. ‘She knows how to handle you.’

‘How to handle me?’ says Johnny.

‘What?’ says Dutch. 

‘Nothing,’ says Johnny hastily. ‘Lucy is ready to go for our exit.’ 

‘Not over,’ says Dutch but she lets it go. 

They make to the exit without anymore incidents. The very second Lucy’s clear, Johnny triggers the explosion to bring the tower down. 

‘Good riddance,’ says Dutch. D’avin nods. Johnny smiles. 

‘You get to the sick bay right now,’ orders Dutch. ‘What’s so funny?’

‘Nothing,’ says Johnny as D’avin comes over to them. They lean on each other, Johnny dizzy and D’avin shaking. ‘It’s just nice not to be alone.’ 


End file.
